


Party Games

by idharao



Category: Astaire/Rogers RPF, Dancers - Fandom, Musicals - Fandom, Old Hollywood
Genre: F/M, party sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idharao/pseuds/idharao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hollywood, 1942. At a party in LA, Fred and Ginger take advantage of the crowd and get away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Party Games

She meets his eye quickly over a tray of sandwiches and glances at the staircase leading up to the second floor of the house. She moves off easily, for going upstairs one could be going to the bathroom. She waves her way through the dense groups of talking people holding champagne. No one notices her leave except him because he's watching.  
  
A minute later he walks away from his drink and goes up the stairs too.  
  
She is waiting for him at the end of the hall. He smiles at her, gets into her space, and opens the door behind her. It's a guest bedroom; a bathroom would have been sufficient, but a bedroom with a lock on the door was a stroke of good fortune they hadn't anticipated. She locks the door behind her and lets him push her into it.  
  
"Ooh, I love you," she says breathlessly as his hands start to undo her blouse. He kisses her neck.  
  
"Love you too, baby," he laughs back, deeply delighted that she's still saying it. He gets to her skin and his fingers spread out to points of sensation against her sides.  
  
For the most part she likes to let him do as he pleases to her, but every so often she asserts herself. She does it now, backing him into the edge of the bed so that he sits. She climbs into his lap, bites her lip and surveys his face. He smiles, that smile she has never been able to erase from her memory, and dips his head.  
  
He licks and sucks at her breasts and she watches his mouth move on her skin. She dips her head to whisper in his ear, little endearments and encouragements. Then finally she pushes him gently down, reaches down to undo his belt, buckle, and fly. She bites her lip, keeps his gaze, and moves; he says, "Oh, fuck, Ginger."  
  
She knows him so well, knows this easy series of movements and the familiar exquisite pleasure. She braces a hand on his chest and rocks and rolls and makes him writhe underneath her. She likes that, and she smiles wickedly at him.  
  
It doesn't take long because they don't have long, so when she comes he groans and follows her. She stays on top of him after it's over, looking down at him from her vantage point. His hands stroke her hips, her abdomen, her breasts. It's been a year since she's been with him last and she misses him. "Come," she says finally. "I'll go downstairs first." She leans down, lets her hair fall in front of her face, and kisses him, hidden from the world.


End file.
